Tap
by Lord Kristine
Summary: Play the game.
Tap was a triceratops. Of this, she was fairly certain. Ever since she hatched (about a day ago, actually), she had no doubt that she was a dinosaur. A herbivore. A triceratops.

But there were other triceratopses. They looked exactly like her. That's why she chose the name "Tap". She wanted to be distinguishable from her sisters. When she told them her name, however, they were not impressed. It wasn't part of the data, they said, and was therefore not important.

Tap's real name was, in fact, a string of code in the park's files. At least, she assumed this string was her name, because it was what made her unique. The unreadable sequence of symbols was why she existed, and that meant it must be a part of her, right? Perhaps. But she still called herself Tap. She was used to hearing that sound. She liked it.

"The park is on," said one of her sisters one morning.

Sure enough, there was light. It shone from a particular angle, like a lamp in the sky.

"That's the sun, isn't it?" Tap asked.

No one replied.

Tap was still getting used to this whole idea of existing. Before she was born, there was nothing. Now, there was her sisters, the park, the Park Manager . . .

Tap had never seen the Park Manager, but she knew that he existed. Whenever the light in the sky was visible, he was there. More often than not, she'd be sleeping when he arrived. It was embarrassing, but after a certain amount of time, she couldn't help but stop her repetitive pacing and fall asleep on the spot. It was beyond her control. But then, the Park Manager would collect profits from her enclosure, and she would give him a grateful snort. She liked that.

Although her existence was somewhat repetitive, Tap was comfortable in her enclosure. She had plenty of sisters to keep her company . . . perhaps less than yesterday . . . and she had even heard rumors that some of the other dinosaurs had a chance to battle for the Park Manager, whatever that meant. Still, there were mysteries that needed solving, such as the disappearance of her siblings. A new triceratops, a green one, had taken their place, but she was just as keen to ignore Tap as the missing triceratopses. For this reason, Tap made a bold decision. When she was sure that the Park Manager was gone for the day, she left her enclosure. It was a difficult feat, but the exhilaration of breaking the rules kept her going. She traveled across the park (which wasn't very far, admittedly), until she found an old dinosaur. It was a stegoceratops with dark stripes and a frill covered in horns. Tap inched towards her with a humble air, and the hybrid spoke.

"You've come here seeking answers."

"How did you know?"

"No one who knows the truth ever leaves their enclosure. I must warn you that once you realize what we are, you will find no joy in existing."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

The hybrid nodded.

"This is all a game. We are not alive, and we barely exist. We are disposable, and you more than any. I carry the wisdom of those who merged into me as I was created, but you will never be held in such high esteem."

Tap's beak quivered.

"Why not?"

"You were an accident. Once the park manager merged a stegosaurus with one of your kind, he decided that he wanted to replace his old dinosaur to complete his collection. He bought too many of you. Am I correct to assume that you were one of the last to arrive in your enclosure?"

Tap nodded.

"I was afraid of that. You will be sold for DNA."

"Sold?"

"Yes. Once the Park Manager has his level forty triceratops, he will not need you. Didn't you ever wonder why he never fed you?"

"I assumed he was busy . . ."

"He only devotes his resources to those who will fight, or else those who will help him complete his missions. You mean nothing to him. You are disposable."

Tears brimmed in Tap's eyes.

"But why? Why would I exist, if my life has no purpose?"

The stegoceratops sighed.

"None of our lives have any real meaning. I am here because I fight well. He uses me as often as he can, and I find myself wishing that he would run out of bucks so that I won't have to fight sooner than when I'm refreshed."

Tap's head was reeling. She didn't understand any of this.

"But why? Why is life this way?" she whimpered.

The stegoceratops smiled bitterly.

"This is not life. This is a game. We're not even the players. You are a pawn, and less than that, because you were an accident. You are literally the most worthless dinosaur here. That's not a value judgment, just empirical data. You may think that you matter, because you give yourself a name an deny your true lack of merit, but to the Park Manager, you are a means to an end. You are not important to him, nor to anyone else. This world is one of many, and we are nothing but a shimmering sea of barely-canon pointlessness. That is the truth."

Tap couldn't stand it anymore. She thundered back to her enclosure, tears streaming down her cheeks, and curled up to sleep, though she was not done processing her coins. She didn't want to believe the stegoceratops, but she knew that denying her words was wishful thinking. Still, a part of her yearned for her life to have some semblance of meaning. The Park Manager must love her, she thought. Nevermind the fact that other dinosaurs had been sold before her: she was special. Her name was Tap, and she was unique.

The next morning, the light returned. She stared up at the dazzling glow, waiting for the Park Manager to collect his profits. He did. She enjoyed it. And then she noticed something. Her sisters were gone. Mostly. One was left.

And then a level forty triceratops appeared. The Park Manager had been hatching her overnight. His collection was complete. And Tap wasn't a part of this new dinosaur.

That was okay. She was special. She was herself. She was Tap.

Her sister disappeared. The Park Manager had sold her.

That was okay. She was nameless. Tap would be safe. She was special. She had a name. She had a life. She existed.

And then he sold her, too.

She no longer existed.

Her name meant nothing.

She was gone.

And all it took was a single tap.


End file.
